


Late is better than never

by jellyfishline



Category: Free!
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishline/pseuds/jellyfishline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin is late for their daily afternoon call, and Haru might be a little upset about it. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late is better than never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daxii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/gifts).



It's a cold day, crisp as an apple. The ocean rocks and sways under skies heavy with rain, prickling with thunder. It's the kind of day that raises goosebumps and severe weather warnings. Haru wouldn't mind it, not at all, if it didn't mean that the pool was closed.

Haru wraps his arms around his knees. Cooling fog from the bath clings to his face, making his skin clammy and tacky where it pokes above the water. He's been in here too long—hours, actually, long enough that his fingers have wrinkled like his late grandmother's hands. Normally, he wouldn't care about that. Normally, he'd stay under the water as long as he conceivably could.

But not today.

He watches the water drain away, not getting out of the tub until the last of it has swirled away. He dries quickly, not bothering to pat the last of the droplets out of his hair. It's comforting, somehow, to have the dampness behind his ears, even on a day as cold as this. To compensate, he pulls on his softest sweatpants, his warmest socks.

That's another thing most people would find odd, probably—that he's not bothering to dress up. Well, he wants to be comfortable. And there's something indulgent, almost intimate, about not caring what you look like in the face of someone you care about.

He pads across the silent room to his computer. The wind rushes in the walls, hurrying him along the floor. He turns it on and waits for it to boot up, giving a scratch to the ornery gray cat who moved in some time ago. They haven't bothered to give it a name, at Haru's insistence—cats shouldn't have names, cats should be allowed to call themselves whatever they want to be called. Rin says that's going to get difficult eventually, depending on how many cats Haru befriends, but Haru refuses to back down.

(And if, after these months of living alone, Haru's started to call the cat Shark... well. Rin doesn't have to know about that.)

The computer slowly whirs into life. Haru brings up the messenger. He remembers when Rin installed it before he left, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his brow furrowed, the way he laughed at Haru's inept attempts to understand how it worked.

 _“Just click here,”_ Rin explained. _“That's all you have to do.”_

It's an old habit, now. Practically ancient. Haru clicks. The screen beeps.

_“Rin Matsuoka” is offline. Please call again later._

Haru scowls at the message. It's 4:30. They always talk at 4:30.

And today is important.

He checks his phone to see if perhaps Rin messaged him. Nothing. Not a single text or missed call.

He scowls. It's not like Rin to leave him hanging like this. No matter how busy he is, he always tells him if he's going to be late for their afternoon talks.

Haru could try to call him. _Could_ , but he won't. Rin must be concerned with other matters if he's not even texting—Haru doesn't want to pester him. Besides, it's not like Haru really cares. So what that Rin's not talking to him today. That doesn't matter. Haru can still go about his afternoon like he always does. Alone.

Haru makes dinner. The house is achingly quiet as he stirs the fish in the pan, watching it sizzle. It's nice to be able to cook what he wants without listening to Rin complain about having fish for days in row. It's nice, being alone like this.

Haru curls up in his chair when the food is done. The first bites are too hot, burning his tongue. He eats anyway. Somehow, he really doesn't give a damn how it tastes.

He's really not upset. They don't have to talk to each other every day. It's not like each day he doesn't hear Rin's voice feels wasted, or like Australia is getting farther and farther away with each day he can't see Rin's face, hear Rin's voice without the obstruction of a computer screen in the way.

The cat meows and paces the floor. It's hair stands up from the static of the storm.

“Hush,” Haru says, giving it a quick brush as it passes under his chair. It nips his hand. Haru hisses and almost curses when the words are stolen by a loud _BANG._

It sounds more like something being dropped than a knock, but it definitely came from the door. He can almost feel a human presence lurking out of sight. Irrationally, he thinks of burglars—he can't imagine any would be stupid enough to go through the front door, but who else would be wandering around in this weather?

He starts to get out of his chair only to hear a click. The lock is turned, and before Haru can react, the door is throw wide and almost off it's hinges.

“I'm home!” someone shouts, and that's definitely not a thief—at least, not the traditional kind. Haru gapes, disbelieving, at the figure before him.

Rin—Haru's Rin, professional swimmer Rin, currently overseas in Australia Rin—is standing in the doorway. Arms wide, and rain dripping from his hair, and looking like not a day has passed since he left.

There's luggage on the floor behind him, a coat half-slung around his shoulders. He is tired, and cold, and happy, and _real_.

“Hey,” Rin says, grinning. “Did you miss—”

Haru gets out of his chair. Knocks it to the floor, but he doesn't care. He spans the distance in two strides until he's close enough to see Rin—real, breathing, smelling like airport and floral shampoo—and then, before he can stop himself from being embarrassing, he wraps his arms around Rin's shoulders, pulls him down, and presses his face into his neck.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Rin says, muffled by Haru's hair. “Tch, are you eating without me? That's rude.”

Like Rin's one to talk, showing up like this.

“You were late,” Haru says, weakly.

Rin laughs. The sound fills the room like a clap of thunder, like the music of light, and life, and home.

“Happy anniversary, idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope this was what you were looking for--it came out a bit fluffier and sillier than I intended, but I had fun writing it and I hope you had fun reading it!


End file.
